


Chains of the Covenant

by Noelleian



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Concubines, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Violence, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Science Fiction, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, dark themes, mature themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelleian/pseuds/Noelleian
Summary: In a world where humans are little more than chattel to their alien conquerors, a young concubine struggles to accept his new status at the feet of the Triikirion admiral who has claimed him. In time, he gradually begins to learn the harsh truth that morality is only in the eye of the beholder.





	1. Cat and Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season! It's a new year and for me that means attempting to finish at least one, or two WIP's as well as introducing some new works that I hope you will enjoy. I'm looking forward to getting a lot of writing done (god willing) and see what all the other amazing creators are up to this year. ^^
> 
> As indicated in the tags, this is not a "happy" story, by any means. It's quite raw and it deals with very dark and questionable subjects that I wanted to explore a little (a lot). 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Love ya!

_'But what you’re talking about means giving up all that - just the noble primitive, simple and self-sufficient. He’s going to chop down a tree_  -  _who sold him the ax?_   _He wants to shoot a deer_  -  _who made his gun?_ _There never was and there never could be a noble simple creature such as you described. He’d be an ignorant savage, with dirt on his skin and lice in his hair. He would work sixteen hours a day to stay alive at all. He’d sleep in a filthy hut on a dirt floor. And his point of view and his mental processes would be just two jumps above an animal.'_

_~ Robert Heinlein, Beyond This Horizon_

 

*******

 

The massive chamber was dark but for the flickering fire that played off the opulent furnishings. The flames cast eerie shadows on the walls that seemed to possess a life of their own, undulating in a hedonic dance of demons and tortured souls bound forever in purgatory. In the center of the sleeping area, a tall figure stood like a vengeful god waiting for the hapless mortals to arrive and repent for their sins.

Quatre peered out from his crouched position behind a grandiose wingback chair, hidden in the shadows. He could see the figure’s silhouette backlit by the orange glow of the fire, silent, still, and imposing. Though Quatre was concealed within the darkness, he knew that the figure knew exactly where he was.

He _always_ knew.

“Why are you hiding?”

“Because I cannot bear to be seen like this.”

“You’ve been seen like this many times. Why would tonight be any different?”

“It’s not. That’s the point.”

“There is nothing in this universe more beautiful than a human on its knees, groveling in submission as it acknowledges its inevitable fate. Is it not flattering to be regarded as the ultimate prize? Decorated in the wealth of the one who rules over you?”

“You tell me I’m beautiful, yet you refer to me as ‘it’. How can I be flattered by that?”

“That bothers you,” the figure mused, sounding slightly perplexed though he did not frame it as a question.

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Odd that such primitive, insignificant creatures think so highly of yourselves. How is it that humanity has come to dabble in matters such as pride?”

“You tell me. You’re the ones who created us.”

“We have created countless species all over the universe. Yet, you humans are unique in your convictions, your steadfast belief in your own importance despite being a mere speck of dust floating through the cosmos. You have been convinced that you were created in the image of your gods for eons. So ardent in your faith that you have ruthlessly spilled the blood of your own time and time again.”

“But we were right, weren’t we?”

“Yes, I suppose you were. Out of all the species in all the universe, you were the only ones genetically designed in our image...but you weren’t supposed to know that.”

“Is that why you’re doing this? Are you punishing us for uncovering your big secret?”

There was a soft sound, like a faint rumble of amusement before the figure spoke again. “I’m afraid it is never that easy, but we have other business to attend to right now. Come to me. I wish to see you.”

Quatre hesitated and then decided to test the waters. “If I refuse?”

As expected, the figure’s voice dropped to a deeper, more threatening timbre. “You know the penalty for disobedience. Now, come to me. Do not make me tell you again.”

 

*******

 

Quatre remained curled beneath the sheets of his lord’s mammoth-sized bed long after the warmth of the Tiikirion’s body heat had dissipated. He was tired, sore, and not in the mood to deal with the condescending sneers of his fellow humans. Aside from himself, there were only two other concubines occupying this particular compound. The rest of their brethren was delegated to the role of house servant. They cooked, they cleaned, and they scurried back and forth like gophers to obey the whims of the resident Tiikirions.

It wasn’t the ideal life, but they’d all decided it was better than the cards Quatre and the other two concubines were dealt. They took pride in their own interpretation of dignity which inevitably turned into a sense of superiority and disdain towards the three “Tiiki whores” whose sole purpose was looking pretty and tending to the sexual needs of their overlords.

Eight months had gone by since Quatre’s transfer to this facility and he’d determined that there was a strict hierarchy of rank among the residing Tiikirions. One general, two admirals, four commanders, six lieutenants, and the remainder made up the lower ranks of sergeants, corporals, and privates.

Only the general and both admirals were permitted ownership of human slaves for whatever purposes they saw fit to suit their personal needs. Quatre found out the hard way, on the very first night, that those needs also included sexual proclivities though in hindsight, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Not after the things he’d seen. Not after the things he’d been through in the months before he was brought here.

His lord had been particularly rough during their most recent coupling as he’d been irritated by Quatre’s mild display of rebellion, such as it was. Quatre could vaguely see the faint emergence of bruises blooming beneath the pale skin of his wrists where the Tiikirion’s strong hands held him fast.

There was something to be said about the Tiikirions’ superior strength. Strength that no human could ever hope to possess. Quatre had seen them bend beams of steel, lift tanks above their heads, and in some cases, easily snap the human body as if it were nothing more than a toothpick.

“Your breakfast is getting cold.”

He hesitated for a moment and then rolled over to face his lord who stood at the side of the bed studying him with eyes that were the same vibrant green as the earth’s flora, yet icy like the glaciers that drifted across the arctic waters. So much of Quatre’s home in those eyes, but so little humanity. How strange it was to look at such a startlingly human face and know that it was not human.

The concept of humanity, to humans, had always been synonymous with goodness and virtue. Possessing humanity was something that philosophers, poets, philanthropists, leaders, and heroes alike were celebrated for. Contrarily, the lack thereof was associated with savagery, cruelty, brutality. To lack humanity implied that you were primitive, unevolved.

To see no trace of humanity within the human eyes of a creature that was not human, but rather an exceptional cut above what humans had always regarded as the pillar of intelligence, integrity, and civilization - themselves - was humbling to say the least. For Quatre, it shed light on the concept of mankind’s ego, realizing that their cockiness was a direct result of their dominion over the earth and the other creatures who dwelled there with them. For many millennia, they’d survived and thrived unchecked and with no one to show them that they were nothing special on the cosmic scale, they’d developed a troubling God complex.

To put it bluntly, humanity had gotten a wee bit too big for its britches.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled, shifting his gaze away to avoid being pinned like an insect to a dissection board by those piercing green eyes. He never had an appetite in the aftermath of their couplings and the Tiikirion damned well knew it. The only thing Quatre craved was the dark nothingness of sleep to escape the memories of his body’s betrayal during his subjugation.

“How long are you planning on living in denial?”

“For as long as I must,” he spat, meeting his tormentor’s eyes with a flare of spite in his own.

“So you admit you’re in denial,” the Tiikirion quipped, his tone light with a trace of humor.

Quatre pressed his lips together and wisely chose not to dig himself deeper. Instead, he pulled the covers up over his shoulder and turned his face into the pillow. “I’m sore.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get used to it.”

“You do not have a choice, pet. You’d do well to remember that.”

His blood simmered beneath his skin, raising his body temperature high enough for sweat to bead across his brow. God, how he loathed being called ‘pet’. “My name is Quatre.”

“Yes, I believe we are long past the point of introductions. Respect is earned, pet. It is not given freely.”

He wanted to mention that owning slaves wasn’t exactly something worthy of respect, but he knew such a retort would more than likely earn him a stinging slap across the face. It wouldn’t have been the first time. He’d already nursed more bruised cheeks than he could count, each one a painful reminder that his life was no longer his own. He had to remember that his sense of morality was far more subjective than he wanted to admit. No matter how bitter a pill it was to swallow, Tiikirions simply did not concern themselves with humanity’s interpretation of right and wrong.

He was spared the expectation of responding by a knock on the door and he curled himself up tighter in an attempt to hide when his lord permitted the guest entry.

“What is it, Wufei?”

Quatre peeked through his lashes to see the regal Tiikirion commander bow slightly in the customary gesture of respect. “Admiral Barton, sir. Beg your pardon, but General Merquise has sent me to inquire of your presence in his chambers along with Admiral Maxwell to discuss the mining riots.”

“Yes, of course. Inform him of my arrival in ten minutes.”

Quatre watched through slitted eyes as the commander saluted and spun sharply on his heel. He listened to the echoing clicks of the Tiikirion’s boot heels fade until he could no longer hear them at all. He was blushing despite the fact that the commander had not spared him a single glance. Even if he had, Quatre wouldn’t have been acknowledged as anything more than the concubine he was.

At best, humans were regarded as a luxury item, a highly sought-after commodity that only those with unimaginable amounts of wealth could afford. At worst, they were merely the dirt clinging to the soles of the Tiikirions’ boots, held in no higher esteem than the ash of mankind's ruined cities.

Quatre had heard the whispers from the halls, the heated discussions while kneeling at his lord’s feet during mealtimes, and from his lord’s private exchanges with Admiral Maxwell and their lieutenants. There had been a revolt, or at least an attempted revolt by the humans who’d been delegated to mining metals and other resources from deep beneath the earth’s crust.

It was a dangerous, often deadly job and among the numerous roles that humans were forced to comply with by the ruling Tiikirions, the miners were considered the most disposable. They were only good insofar that they could mine the materials the Tiikirions needed to build and repair ships, weapons, and bases, as well as provide continuous energy and water sources to maintain their preferred standard of living and keep communication open to the other Tiikirions not currently stationed on earth. Once the workers outlived their usefulness, they were removed from the mines and executed.

Whether they’d made any headway in their attempted coup, Quatre didn’t know, but he assumed it hadn’t been successful. His lord, along with the other officers, were occupied with organizing disciplinary and preemptive measures to ensure there would be no more uprisings. His heart went out to the miners, especially the ones who still had families. Sadly, many did not since Tiikirions had proven many times that they were not above butchering a dissenter’s entire family to establish complete cooperation.

He would know. All he had left of his own family were the memories he kept safely locked inside himself, fiercely guarded behind an impenetrable fortress. It was the only thing that reminded him of his former life, of who he used to be. That he hadn’t always existed as a living, breathing sex doll. He’d had a purpose, a future, people he loved, and he’d been happy. He would die before he let anyone sever the last, fragile connection he had to his life before the invasion.

The concept of humanity may have been objectively meaningless, but to humans, it was still as precious as it ever was.

He pushed the covers away and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to retrieve the tray of food that had been set out for him. Kectich was a personal favorite and he went for that first, tearing a large chunk off with his teeth. It was vaguely similar to human cornbread only the texture was fluffier and less dense. Cane sugar and corn were not part of the Tiikirions’ diet as it did not grow on their own planet. As a result, they had more difficulty digesting it and turning it into energy. Instead, they sweetened their dishes with the Vedct plant, a species indigenous to Tiikiri which they harvested from the crops they sowed into the earth’s soil.

He studiously ignored the soft laugh behind him and focused his attention on his food, far too ticked off to trust himself with a response that would not land him in hot water. He picked up the cup of mulled cider and washed his breakfast down, recognizing the slight tang of the tincture that had been added to relieve his aches and stiffness. He drank it all down, well past the point of fighting over it, and just barely stopped himself from slamming the cup down onto the tray.

“Here, wear this.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the garment the Tiikirion draped across the bed, trying not to let his distaste show. It was the common uniform of the concubine, meant for everyday wear. Surprisingly, it was not all that revealing unlike the garments that were required during evening and formal occasions. It was more the scarlet letter effect it had on the rest of the compound’s occupants. A mere glimpse at his clothing was sufficient enough time to recognize his humiliating status.

 _I may as well just wear a neon sign around my neck that says ‘whore’,_ he thought bitterly as he snatched the garment up and made a testy show about putting it on. When his lord stepped around the bed and approached him, he turned his head away and held out his wrists for the cuffs to be clasped around them.

“Look at me, pet.”

Gnashing his teeth together, he reluctantly turned his head and lifted his gaze until he was eye to eye with the Tiikirion. It was so difficult to hate such a magnificent creature. Admiral Trowa Barton was physical perfection in the flesh. What he even saw in a lowly human like Quatre was one of life’s greatest mysteries...in his personal opinion.

He resisted the impulse to flinch when his chin was grasped between deceitfully gentle fingers, preventing any possible retreat on Quatre’s part. The Tiikirion stared down at him for several minutes, silently studying the curves and angles of his concubine’s face from the shape of his eyes to the slight roundness of his cheeks, the delicate slope of his nose, and down to the plump flesh of his rose-stained lips.

Quatre remained still under the scrutiny, watching the Tiikirion take it all in. He caught every twitch of his lord’s mouth, the way his gaze lingered on the features he loved the most, and the nearly inaudible hitch of his breath, and realized that the admiral was equally fascinated by him. When their eyes met again, his own were remarkably steady as he waited for the verdict.

“Like I said,” the Tiikirion murmured. “Nothing more beautiful. It’s a shame. Your kind had such potential. We had hoped you would exceed our expectations.”

Quatre’s eyes flared with vindictive blue fire. “Happy to disappoint you.”

For a moment, he was sure he was going to be struck and braced himself for the jarring impact. Instead, his lord’s fingers clamped tightly around his chin before he was pulled against the sinewy chest and kissed with such aggression that he was left panting and disoriented by the time the Tiikirion pulled away.

“One of these days, that mouth of yours is going to get you in more trouble than you can handle.”

“As if it matters anymore. Sooner or later you’ll get bored with me, then you’ll either kill me, or you’ll send me back to that filthy brothel and forget I ever existed. I just hope you’ll be merciful enough to kill me because I’d rather die than go back to that hellhole.”

The Tiikirion stared down at him as if shocked by the revelation. “Do you actually believe I would do either of those things?”

Quatre shrugged to hide the sting of inevitable reality. As much as he despised his lot in life, it was worlds better than where he’d been prior to this. And he wasn’t ready to die just yet. “Why wouldn’t you? I don’t actually _mean_ anything to you, do I? I’m just a warm body to fuck and it’s not like I’m going to be young forever, you know. I’ll get old and droopy someday. My attractiveness will fade along with my ability to withstand the physical requirements of my position. I give it fifteen years, twenty tops, before I’m no longer considered desirable and then you’ll replace me with a younger piece of meat. I’ve seen your kind do it many times.”

Already resigned to his fate, he was determined to leave it at that, but the Tiikirion would not allow him to withdraw. He gave only a token resistance as he was swept into inhumanly strong arms. His heart just wasn’t in it. The will to fight grew fainter with each passing day and that frightened him more that he was willing to admit.

“I am not just any Tiikirion, pet. Everything I claim is valuable to me. I do not throw my treasures away.”

Quatre allowed himself to be held, but he could not bring himself to believe what he was hearing. A Tiikirion’s word was no more trustworthy than the serpent who convinced Eve to eat the forbidden fruit and he was not about to be fooled.

The admiral made a soft sound of acknowledgement and released his concubine. “Perhaps one day you will believe me. Come. General Merquise is waiting for us.”


	2. Held In Contempt

_"Choice is an illusion created between those with power and those without. And this is the nature of the universe. We struggle against it...we fight to deny it. But it is, of course, pretend. It is a lie...casualty. There is no escaping it. We are forever slaves to it. Our only hope - our only peace - is to understand it. To understand the why. Why is the only real source of power. Without it, you are powerless...and this is how you come to me. Without why, without power...another link in the chain.”_

  _~ Merovingian, The Matrix Reloaded_

 

  *******

 

The corridors of the Alpha Nine military base were packed with bustling servants carrying trays loaded with food and drink to the mess hall. They expertly dodged and weaved around the Tiikirions who loitered in small groups, leaping over jutting feet intended to trip them and ignoring the cruel jeers and insults thrown at their retreating backs.

Trowa maneuvered the long, winding halls of the complex with his shoulders squared and head held high. His gait was graceful, but imposing with long-legged strides that forced those within his path to move aside. His expression was neutral, aloof, and his aura radiated the same power and authority that had earned him his elite position.

He did not need to look behind him to know that his pet was keeping pace. Despite the young human’s resistance, he was smart enough to understand that self-preservation was of the utmost importance and that cooperation was far more beneficial to his well-being than disobedience.

Sometimes. Sometimes that instinctual self-preservation seemed to fly right out the window just like the corvids after Quatre fed them their daily handful of seeds.

Trowa was no fool. He knew better than to let his guard down. He’d heard the horror stories about his fellow Tiikirions who were awakened in the dark of night only to die moments later as the razor-sharp steel of their own blades were plunged into their gullets by a rebellious concubine. Trowa himself had experienced a close call and no longer took chances.

And Quatre was no ordinary concubine. As a rule, most were obtained through the slave auctions where concubines were put through rigorous tests and training before they were declared fit for auction. The ideal concubine was someone with no military, or fighting experience of any kind. Those who previously held positions of great societal influence were not accepted either. Doctors, lawyers, politicians, celebrities, anyone accustomed to calling the shots was far too big a risk.

Attractiveness and optimum health were, of course, mandatory. Accepted candidates were those with no history of mental instability, chemical dependence, or contagious diseases beyond the common cold and flu. Humans who possessed above average intelligence were automatically disqualified from the program.

Quatre never would have been accepted, much less considered. The prestigious status of his family along with his remarkably high intelligence would have required far more time and resources than the trainers had at their disposal to sufficiently cultivate him and even then, there was no guarantee of success.

Instead, humans like Quatre were microchipped and delivered to the brothels which conducted business deep within the seedy underbelly of the last remaining cities. There, they lived out the rest of their lives serving the inebriated, raucous lower ranks of off-duty Tiikirions who were eager for a soft, warm body to take the edge off.

Quatre also just so happened to be one of the more troublesome whores. After his repeated escape attempts, mouthing off, and abject refusal to entertain the customers, the house master nearly wept with relief the night Trowa arrived and took the young blond off his hands. Though not before crassly suggesting that the Tiikirion admiral would be much better off using the rebellious slave as a hood ornament.

“I think it’s safe to say those circles under your eyes now officially qualify as bags.”

Trowa kept his gaze forward as Admiral Duo Maxwell fell into step beside him, too tired and irritable to dignify the quip with one of his own.

Not that his silence ever stopped Duo. The long-haired Tiikirion glanced behind his friend at the fragile looking human who shuffled in tandem beside his own concubine, noting that he too looked exhausted. “Been keeping you busy, I see.”

“Don’t start, Duo.”

Duo paused to mull the situation over, unsure if he even wanted to delve into whatever was going on. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing new,” Trowa answered in a clipped tone. “He misbehaved again and I had to discipline him. Again.”

“Uh...Tro? I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, but you kind of knew what you were getting into when you decided to take him for yourself, didn’t you?”

An exasperated groan vibrated Trowa’s throat. The last thing he needed was another, “I told you so,” lecture. He’d already gotten plenty of them from General Zechs. Yes, he had known and yes, he’d agreed regardless. He’d been too blinded by the human’s beauty to listen to reason, confident in his own ability to tame what he was beginning to think was untameable.

_Serves me right, I suppose. Even Duo advised against it which was surprising enough, but I was too stubborn to pay them any heed. I saw what I wanted and I took it without thinking it through. I must be a glutton for punishment because despite the fact that Quatre drives me up the wall most of the time, I still don't regret what I did._

“Can we not talk about this now?”

Duo shrugged, not really caring either way. “Sure, it can wait, but you know Zechs is going to notice your less-than-stellar appearance. He is already displeased about his beloved second-in-command being compromised like this...over a human slave, no less.”

“I realize that and I know it’s a problem. I just have to figure out a way to make this work.”

“You understand that you may have to give him up if you can’t make it work, right? Zechs is being uncharacteristically lenient about this. I’m not sure why, but I would not take it for granted if I were you. He’s only going to bend so far before he decides that your human - lovely as he is - is not worth jeopardizing his ranks.”

Trowa did understand that and he knew time was running out. Zechs’ patience was quickly wearing thin and if he didn’t do something soon, he would be forced to make a choice. “I am not giving him up, Duo. I can’t. And I will not kill him either.”

Duo nodded, figuring as much. “Then I hope for your sake, you’re able to keep him in line.” He looked over his shoulder again and was taken off guard by a pair of sharp blue eyes staring intently at him. They were lucid, shockingly intelligent, with no trace of acquiescence. No indication that his will to fight had been diminished in the slightest.

Unsettled, he turned back around and decided to drop the subject. He knew enough not to push what Trowa would no doubt consider unwelcome advice. Better to let Zechs open Pandora’s Box and deal with the fallout.

Trowa glanced at him, noting the tightness of his face. Duo was worried, that much was clear. “Hey, relax. I can handle this, alright? When have I ever failed at anything?”

Duo made an agreeable humming sound. “Okay, I’ll give you that.” He grinned and elbowed his friend, adding, “But it would be pretty funny if after everything you’ve accomplished, your one downfall ends up being a puny human bed slave.”

Trowa laughed, breaking the neutral stoicism he typically adopted in public. He could appreciate the irony despite how ludicrous the very idea was. “If that ever happens, do me a favor and make sure it never makes the history books.”

“Now what kind of friend would I be if I let that happen?”

“I appreciate that.”

“It’ll cost you, though.”

“In that case, I take back every good thing I’ve ever said about you.”

 

  *******

 

The guards stationed at the entrance of General Zechs’ suite broke formation long enough to usher the two admirals and their concubines inside. Trowa was surprised to find his superior in the parlor instead of his personal study which he typically used as a private briefing room.

The platinum-haired Tiikirion general sat poised like royalty in his favorite mahogany chair and did not bother to acknowledge his admirals’ belated arrival right away. Trowa scanned the room and saw that the others who’d been summoned were already in attendance. He turned back to Zechs and waited patiently for the invitation to sit.

One simply did not make themselves comfortable in the general’s chambers without being invited first. Summoned, or not, even those who made up his inner circle knew better than to assume they were welcome.

He watched Zechs chat with Commander Lady Une and was relieved to see the relaxed and open way in which he spoke to his weapons specialist. In the general’s left hand, dark amber liquid swirled in lazy circles inside a crystal tumbler. Trowa recognized it as the expensive human cognac that Zechs had taken a particular liking to.

In a strange twist of events, Zechs turned out to be somewhat of a human connoisseur. A collector of both humans and their most cherished cultural commodities. Cuisine, art, literature, music, and even religious symbolism. He was infatuated with every aspect of human civilization and it was evident by the numerous Da Vinci's and Van Gogh's that hung on the walls of his suite and the many books and trinkets meticulously arranged on every glossy table top and window ledge.

Zechs’ right arm was draped over the side of the chair where his long, tapered fingers absently carded through silky brown hair. Trowa couldn’t see much more than the top of the concubine’s head and her bared knees which stuck out past the chair’s front legs. Lucrezia Noin had been one of the humans in command of the resistance. When the resistance fell, she was captured, first for intel, then later wound up in Zechs’ possession though how she did, Trowa didn’t know.

Now that he thought about it, neither he, Duo, nor Zechs had obtained their concubines through the training program. Perhaps they simply enjoyed the challenge, the thrill of the hunt. What was the point of having a pet that was already trained? Breaking them in was half the fun. Invigorating. It kept you on your toes, kept your instincts from getting rusty.

Risk was a part of life. Danger made you feel alive. Like their human creations, Tiikirions were no less susceptible to that electrifying rush of adrenaline and the heady sense of power in the aftermath of victory.

“Ah, I see you two finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

Trowa jerked his attention back to his superior who greeted his admirals with a delicately-arched, white brow. He bowed respectfully, well-practiced concession already on his lips. “My apologies, Sir. There was a - a minor setback that held me up.”

Zechs’ icy gray eyes studied him for several minutes and then, unsurprisingly, shifted to the blond concubine who stood behind his second. Trowa tensed, already knowing what was coming. “Then perhaps you should _uncomplicate_ this unfortunate complication, hmm?”

Trowa nodded and bowed again. “Yes, of course, Sir. It will not happen again.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Zechs drawled before turning his attention to his other admiral. “And what’s your excuse this time? Traffic jam in the hallway? Dog ate your homework?”

“No, Sir,” Duo told him with a cheeky grin. “Just slept in and decided to wait for Admiral Barton because I knew he was late, too.”

Trowa shot him a look of confusion. “How did you know I was running late?”

“No offense, my friend, but you’re even more predictable than Commander Chang’s menstrual cycle.”

Wufei sputtered from his perch on the hearth, but quickly quieted down after a placating swipe of Zechs’ hand. “Admiral Maxwell,” he began and then paused to glower at Une and Sally Po who were attempting to smother their laughter behind their palms. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he waited for the two females to collect themselves before turning his ire back on Duo. “Admiral Maxwell, I would thank you to remember who and what you represent. There are many other Tiikirions here - highly capable ones, I might add - who would sell their souls to be in your position. You _are_ replaceable. Keep that in mind.”

Duo quickly sobered and gave the general a jerky nod. “Yes, Sir. I’ll remember that. I am sorry.”

“Same goes for you, too, Barton.”

Trowa snapped to attention and humbly acknowledged the reminder. “I’ll remember, Sir.”

“Good. If those humans of yours are contributing to this dereliction of duty, I will have them removed from your possession permanently. Are we clear?”

Trowa swallowed around a dry throat and tried to keep his voice steady. “Affirmative, Sir,” he promised and heard Duo echo the sentiment beside him.

“Very well,” Zechs droned as if the conversation was suddenly boring him to tears. Knowing him, it probably was. He waved his hand at the two empty chairs, each with a plush cushion placed on the floor beside them. “Have a seat and we’ll get started. I have duties to attend to afterward so I would like to make haste. Do you fools think you can accomplish that?”

A collective murmur of sheepish affirmations quickly followed the inquiry and when Duo glanced at Trowa, he looked more than a little edgy. 

So much for Zechs’ pleasant mood.

 

*******

 

Trowa struggled to keep his eyes open and his attention focused on the game plan Lady Une was proposing with the help of the interactive digital schematics and blueprints that hovered over the holographic console, in addition to her favorite whiteboard which she loved to scribble barely legible notes and figures on. She had a smudge of red marker on the tip of her nose, but no one cared enough to point it out. The warmth of the fire and the press of Quatre’s head against his thigh, along with the cognac in his bloodstream was making it difficult to concentrate.

He wanted nothing more than to gather his pet, retreat back to his chambers, and sleep for the next week with his arms wrapped tight around Quatre like a living teddy bear. He glanced down at the blond who appeared to be dozing and felt a surge of momentary envy. _Wish I could take a catnap,_ he thought petulantly.

“Admiral Barton, what do you think?”

“Hmm?” He jerked his head up and recoiled slightly when all eyes turned on him expectantly. He cleared his throat, trying to convince himself that the heat spreading across his face was from the cognac and not the embarrassment of being caught with his head in the clouds. “I’m sorry, Une. Would you mind repeating that?”

Exasperated, Une dropped the arm that was holding the marker against the whiteboard and gave Zechs an ardent look, one that clearly said, _Would you do something about this?_

Trowa knew he was the reason for the displeased pursing of Zechs’ lips and he wanted to kick himself for not paying attention. Like a newly-convicted criminal about to receive his sentence, he bowed his head and waited for the scathing castigation.

“Is there a problem, Admiral?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then do you mind telling me why you seem to believe all of this is beneath you?”

“It is not beneath me, Sir. Not at all. I do apologize. I am merely tired and I should have passed on the cognac. I will pay attention, you have my word.”

“We’re all tired, Admiral. With the mine riots and the loss of communication with Tiikiri, we’re facing trying times,” Zechs told him, rubbing his fingers against his forehead in a rare display of vulnerability. “But whether these challenges end in our favor is up to us. You know as well as I do...as well as anyone in this room, what lies ahead and what it’s going to take to come out the other side triumphant. And it’s not by getting soft, or lazy, or succumbing to our weaknesses.”

“I know. I will do better.”

Zechs lifted his tumbler to his lips and sipped his cognac, his arctic eyes contemplative as he studied Trowa over the rim of the glass. “I’ve watched you run circles around our enemies, even while you were loaded down with heavy gear, hungry, dehydrated, and bleeding profusely after being hit with a round of high caliber ammunition. I’ve watched you take down entire armies with your bare hands. That’s why you’re here, Admiral. That’s why I chose you.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his expression one of genuine admiration. “You are my most valuable asset and I would like you to stay that way.”

Trowa was overcome with pleasant surprise, but he swallowed it down and nodded earnestly. Now was not the time to gush. “Thank you, Sir. I will do my best from now on.”

“With the exception of me, you _are_ the best, Admiral. Act like it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Zechs leaned back into his chair and reached for his concubine, twirling a dark lock of her hair around his finger. “You all need to remember that. You’re all here because you’re the cream of the crop. I never settle for anything less than the best and the best is what the world should see every time we leave the privacy of our chambers. If you look bad, I look bad and I will not tolerate looking bad by anyone’s standards. Are we all in agreement here?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Wonderful. Now, unless there are any more pressing matters, or personal crises to address...Une, would you mind going over that one last time for the peanut gallery here?”

Trowa made an effort to look contrite as Une’s brown eyes met his own. She huffed in irritation, but nodded and turned back to the board. “Right, so we know that the miners have already rallied around one human, the foreman of this regional project. The same one whom we believe is behind these skirmishes.”

Duo leaned forward and waved his glass at the whiteboard. “I suppose taking him out is off the table?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. As of now, negotiations are underway. It’s in our own best interest to prevent any future clashes for obvious reasons. Decrease in productivity, for example.”

Wufei’s lip curled up in disdain. “Since when do we negotiate with humans? Since when are they worthy of such consideration? We do not negotiate with any species. That is not what we do. Those we’ve conquered must learn to obey, or they will suffer and die. It _is_ that simple, Commander.”

“Humans aren’t just “any species”, Commander Chang. They were modeled after us.”

“But they’re _not_ us, are they? They are, and will always be, inferior carbon copies of us.”

“I believe the point Commander Une is trying to make is that this negotiation process is not for the benefit of humans. Conflicts have finally begun to die down for the first time since our arrival,” Trowa explained. “I am not necessarily pleased with the negotiations. I’m with Commander Chang on that, but Commander Une is correct that another rise of violence is going to cause more problems than it will solve. You know as well as I do that these situations are never over and done with quickly. There is always a ripple effect and we do not have the time, or the resources to allow this to continue.”

“At least not until we’ve re-established contact with Tiikiri,” Duo pointed out. “Right now, we’re on our own.”

Sally Po folded her arms across her chest and pinned Trowa with a look. “So how do you suggest we solve this if we’re not going to negotiate, or take aggressive measures?”

Wufei threw his hands up before Trowa could answer. “Why are we even talking about this? There is one, clear solution. We nip this in the bud the same way we always do. The same way we took this planet and every other planet under our control. They can accept our authority, or they can die. It’s their choice. We can get more miners if we need to.”

“And where do you suggest we get more miners?” Une asked him. “We’re not exactly growing humans on trees. Breeding them is complicated and time consuming and it takes years before their young are mature enough for hard labor."

“Human children are fully capable of such work,” Zechs mused. His eyes were distant and his finger tapped idly against his lip, an obvious sign he was deep in thought. “Most modern children haven’t been doing much grueling physical labor thanks to technology and the laws that their elders enacted to stop it, but we know that for millennia they’ve worked in their crop fields from dusk till dawn. They’ve fought wars, even built nations.”

“With all due respect, General, they also didn’t live past thirty years of age, if they made it that far,” Sally told him. Trowa detected a hint of revulsion in her voice even though it seemed she was trying to keep under control. “You’re not seriously suggesting we put children in the mines, are you?”

“Why not?”

Sally gaped at Wufei, appalled by his callousness. “Do we not have any sense of honor, or ethics anymore? We’re not savages, the last time I checked. Savagery is a human flaw, not a Tiikirion one.”

Wufei met her glare with one of his own. “What difference does it make? They’re all slaves. What difference does it make if we put them to good use sooner rather than later? It’s only age, Commander.”

“It’s not just age! It’s - it’s innocence! They know not the ways of their elders until they become one themselves. Can you honestly tell me that if the roles were reversed, you would not be disgusted by the harsh treatment of our young?”

Wufei pointed a victorious finger at her. “That’s exactly my point. We’re already doing that. They’re growing up in captivity, they’re being trained to take their elders’ place when the time comes. We’ve enslaved them and their families, some of their families were slaughtered by our hands. What will happen to them is inevitable so what difference does it make _when_ we do it?”

Sally opened her mouth and Trowa winced as he sensed the firestorm of outrage about to be unleashed just a second before Zechs intervened. “Alright, that’s enough, you two. I think we all understand both sides very clearly and while Commander Chang is technically correct, at this point in time I’m going to refrain from recruiting children unless it’s absolutely necessary and right now, it is not. There is no shortage of capable adults, even if we wind up stuck with the worst case scenario.”

Trowa watched the doctor’s tension melt with the help of Une’s calming hand on her shoulder. He was admittedly relieved himself. Wufei may have been objectively correct, but it felt wrong to subject the very young to that kind of life. They would get there soon enough, but until they did, there was no need to force them to endure the same treatment their elders did. When he met Zechs' gaze, he nodded in agreement to let him know they were both on the same page.

“We have yet to come up with a solid plan, though,” Duo reminded them. “The human larvae are off the table, we’ve all agreed to that much -” he paused and glanced at Wufei who fumed like a turbulent storm cloud in the corner. “Most of us anyway. The question is, how do we handle these miners in a way that’s going to result in a favorable outcome?”

Trowa glanced down at his lap where Quatre’s head rested. The thick, gold-spun hair lay in tousled waves around his face and over his ears. His lashes, only a few shades darker were long with an upward sweep, fluttered against his cheekbones. His lips were slightly parted, twitching every so often as he dreamed of surreal landscapes and creatures that defied the laws of physics.

In sleep, his face was relaxed. At peace with the world around him. Gone were the tension and resentment that seemed to be a permanent fixture during his waking hours. He was no child, but during times like this, everything about him carried the innocence of one.

He picked up a lock of feather-soft hair and idly rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “We have reached the stage in our colonization of this planet where we must begin to consider phase two: Coexistence.” He looked up, first at Zechs and then at Wufei. “As much as I agree that aggressive measures are necessary, we need to remember that this is not an extermination. We are not competing for resources with mankind. They are not the means to an end. It is imperative for us as the dominant species to bridge the gap between us. Start sowing the seeds of trust...for our mutual benefit.”

Wufei huffed and looked away, but Trowa already knew he was getting through that thick, stubborn head of his. “Being overtly and unnecessarily cruel will inevitably lead to much bigger problems down the road. I know you know that, Commander Chang. We cannot plausibly expect cooperation if we’re not giving any in return.”

“Sometimes it is difficult for us to swallow our pride, but I truthfully do not believe pride should be part of the equation here. Humans may not _be_ us, but they are descended from us. We may not like to admit it, but for that reason, they have much in common with us. Underestimating them is a mistake, possibly a deadly one. Humans are intelligent, resourceful, and masters of deceit. Despite their inferior physical strength, they could very well become formidable adversaries. That is something we do not want.”

“He’s right,” Duo said, leaning back in his chair. “They've proven themselves as quite a force to be reckoned with so it wouldn't behoove us to give credit where credit is due. Besides, humanity is our creation. We brought it into existence. We are responsible for it. That’s the whole reason we came here in the first place. They were heading down a very dark path. It was our duty to pull them back from the brink.”

“Which I was against from the very beginning,” Wufei snidely reminded them. “Instead of allowing nature to take its course like we should have done, we intervened.”

Zechs set his empty glass down and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “If mankind had been a spontaneous result of natural occurrences, I would be in full agreement with you, Commander Chang, but they are not. They were our crowning achievement, but also the first of their kind. As such, our elders had no idea what they were dealing with. They made the mistake of removing themselves from the equation to see how humans evolved on their own.”

“Except they had no past experience with a species like this to learn from. It was a shot in the dark so they reverted to trial and error and hoped for the best. When humanity began to show signs of not being ready for total independence, the elders should have stepped in to guide them, but they did not. They were curious to see how far mankind would go. They wanted to find out whether a species could devolve after reaching a peak in their evolution. By the time we intervened, humans had already descended so far down into chaos, I wasn’t sure they could even be saved.”

“And what do you think now, General?” Une asked him.

Zechs lifted his shoulder in a vague gesture of a shrug. “Time will tell. They have shown remarkable resilience and perseverance. Their ability to adapt to any environment is the most likely reason they’ve survived on their own as long as they have.”

“You wanted to save us, yet your brilliant solution was to enslave us? Was that really the best you could come up with?”

Trowa blinked in confusion when everyone’s attention was suddenly focused towards his lap and it took a moment for his brain to catch up. The warm weight disappeared from his thigh and he looked down in dismay as Quatre lifted his head and turned to Zechs, brazenly prompting him for an answer.

As far as he knew, no human had ever taken such a liberty and lived to tell about it.

He opened his mouth to apologize to his superior, prepared to immediately discipline his concubine for his insubordination. He was fearful of the repercussions Quatre would face for his indiscretion, but to his surprise, Zechs raised a hand to stop him. “It’s alright, Admiral,” he assured in a mildly amused tone. “I would like to hear what this feisty little slave has to say. Surely such bold assertion is deserving of acknowledgment.”

Trowa felt his pet tense at the condescension and silently begged him not to push his luck. Unfortunately, Quatre was nothing if not an opportunist. If he was being given a chance to speak, he was going to let them have it.

“How can you even rationalize this? You’re telling me that this tyranny you’ve forced us live under is your way of saving us from our own self-destruction when slavery and tyranny were two of the primary reasons why you felt the need to step in?”

For some strange reason, Zechs was the only one in the room who didn’t look like he’d just been sucker-punched. He seemed more intrigued than angry and Trowa's heart sunk, knowing exactly what it meant. It was an act. A ruse to fool Quatre into feeling safe enough to cross the line into treacherous territory. And Trowa was powerless to stop it.

“And you do not think that’s fair, do you?”

“Do _you_ think it is?” Quatre countered.

Zechs held the blond's gaze for a minute before he scooted forward, far enough to reach him. Trowa’s heart thumped painfully as his hand lashed out, lightning-quick, and seized Quatre’s chin in a tight grip. His amiable facade was beginning to crack. Trowa could see the indignation, the barely-contained rage in the tightness of his jaw. “What you fail to understand, _pet,_ is that fairness has nothing to do with any of this.”

Quatre’s eyes narrowed and Trowa braced himself for all hell to break loose. “Then you have no moral high ground to stand on and thus have no right to render judgement on us, you arrogant hypocrite.”

Zechs’ nostrils flared and a moment later, Quatre was sprawled on the floor, stunned by the powerful impact of the Tiikirion's hand striking his cheek. Zechs straightened his back and stared Trowa down with smoldering fury written across every twitching muscle of his face. “If you do not get your slave under control, I will do it for you and I promise you he will suffer far worse by my hand than he ever will yours. The next time I see this... _whore_...he damned well better be on his best behavior. Are we clear, Admiral?”

Trowa nodded and forced his shock-frozen tongue to form words. “Yes, Sir. I promise he will be under control when you see him again.”

Zechs breathed hard through his nose and then bent down, grabbing hold of the blond and lifting him off the floor. He held Quatre against him, high enough that the slave’s feet dangled several inches above the floor, and gripped a handful of yellow curls. “Learn your place, human and learn it quickly, or you will pay dearly. Your defiance will not be tolerated. So help me, if I have to beat it out of you every single day until you are bleeding and broken, I will do so without hesitation, or remorse. Do you understand what I'm telling you?”

Quatre’s eyes were dazed and misty with tears, both from the pain of the slap and the harsh pulling of his hair. He nodded, his ability to speak effectively subdued for the time being. Satisfied, Zechs carelessly dropped him into Trowa’s arms and beckoned his own concubine with a snap of his fingers. He waited for her to get to her feet and then glowered at his officers. “This meeting is adjourned. We’ll meet again in two days. _Everyone_ had better be prompt. I expect to see some improvement in the mining situation by then.” His eyes landed on Trowa’s as he added, “And I expect your pet will not cause problems, will he?”

Trowa clutched his concubine - now limp with defeat and humiliation - against him and shook his head. “No, Sir. He will not.”

Zechs studied him closely as if mulling something over. “I would like to meet with you privately later this afternoon to discuss a few matters. Come to my chambers. Alone. You can leave your pet with Admiral Maxwell.”

Trowa glanced at Duo who gave him a reassuring nod. It wasn’t the first time Duo had been given the task of watching over Quatre and it put him at ease knowing his concubine would be in good hands. “Yes, Sir.”

“And bring another bottle of cognac upon your return,” Zechs added flippantly, guiding his pet back towards the more private area of his chambers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get ready for the generals’ conference. You can see yourselves out.”

Trowa’s attempts to walk his own concubine out were fruitless as Quatre had gone from raging spitfire to lifeless ragdoll. He hoisted the blond into his arms instead and walked beside Duo towards the exit with a softly chiding, “You are the most infuriating creature I have ever encountered, do you know that?”

Quatre did not respond, though he did turn to nuzzle his face against Trowa’s chest as if he were attempting burrow his way into the Tiikirion’s body.

Sally patted Trowa’s shoulder and smiled in understanding. Her warm bedside manner was always welcomed and appreciated. “Don’t worry, Admiral. You will get through this. I have faith in you.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“He’ll get through it once he finally puts his foot down and shows that worthless human who’s in control,” Wufei spat, elbowing his way to the front and all but shoving one of the lieutenants aside to be the first through the door.

“What did you ever see in him?”

Sally laughed and wrapped her arm around Une’s waist. “Believe it or not, he isn't that bad once you get him alone and away from work for a while. But yes, he is high maintenance. That’s why I couldn’t continue the relationship.”

“You told me I was high maintenance, too,” Une reminded her.

“You’re high maintenance in a good way. I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“He seems worse than he used to be,” Duo mused.

“He’s just...stressed.”

“Aren’t we all.”

“Things are not panning out the way he’d planned. You know how hard it is for him to deal with failure. He thinks swift and ruthless aggression is most efficient way to solve this.”

“In the short run, I would agree,” Trowa said. “In the long run, it's likely to make this situation worse. Besides, he knows the protocol. A full military offensive is only permitted during extermination procedures. The criteria for occupation requires the implementation of the measures laid out by the elders’ colonization procedural codes.”

“The word of God,” Duo said with a sigh. “The elders have been gone for so long, yet we still revere their commandments as if they are infallible.”

“It is not up to us to question, or judge the elders,” Une admonished.

“Do you think they’ll ever come back?”

Trowa shook his head. “No one knows. Some believe they’ve been dead for millenia. Others believe they traveled to some distant galaxy and will be back someday. We don’t even know exactly when they left, or why.”

“We don’t know how old they are either,” Sally pointed out. “You ask any Tiikirion, they’ll simply tell you, “Old enough.” We don’t even know who created them. Any and all archaeological evidence of their - our - origins was destroyed eons ago.”

They reached the first fork in the corridor where two narrower ones split into different directions. Trowa and Duo parted ways with Une and Sally and continued on towards the south wing where their own chambers were located. The mood was quiet, introverted as both were lost in their own thoughts.

“Makes you think.”

Then again, Duo was never quiet for very long.

“What does?” Trowa asked him, shifting Quatre’s dead weight in his arms in an attempt to get the circulation flowing back into his hands.

“Who made us. Or rather, who made the elders.”

“We may never know the answer to that, Duo. I wouldn’t waste too much energy worrying about it.”

“Hmmm...I remember when I was young, still in boot camp, and there was a rumor that went around - I don’t know who started it, or how it spread, but my peers were constantly talking about how we weren’t pure, full-blooded Tiikirions like the elders. That we're a mutation, or a mix of Tiikirion and another species because it was suspected that the elders could not procreate with each other.”

“I remember that rumor, too,” Trowa mused. “It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s plausible. There’s never been any evidence to support its validity.”

“But no evidence to debunk it either.”

“You can’t debunk an unproven concept, Duo.”

Duo scoffed playfully. “Well, not with _that_ attitude.”

Trowa opened his mouth to respond, but was distracted by movement in his peripheral vision. He watched the dark-haired human walk silently behind them, curious about how the young man appeared to be in his own little world and the way his demeanor spoke volumes about his compliance.

Heero was an odd one. Perhaps even stranger than Quatre, however inconceivable that idea seemed to be. Trowa couldn’t recall ever hearing his voice, had no idea what it sounded like because he’d never said one word in Trowa’s presence. Though according to Duo, when they were alone together in the privacy of their chambers, it was hard to get Heero to shut up.

“Duo, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How did you do it?” When Duo shot him a confused look, he nudged his chin at Heero. “How did you get him to behave so well? I don’t remember you ever having as much trouble with him as I have with Quatre.”

Duo let out a bark of laughter and Trowa could clearly hear the irony in it. “Oh, you have no idea. He was very difficult in the beginning. Not as difficult as yours, I’ll give you that, but don’t be fooled. There were times when I was convinced it was never going to work.” He glanced down at the blond in Trowa’s arms. “I think the difference is, Heero came from a military background prior to our arrival. He's spent most of his life deferring to authority so it just...sort of came naturally to him once he got over the initial shock. I don’t know much about Quatre, or if he’s even told you anything about his past, but I get the feeling he is _not_ accustomed to being told what to do. I’m not sure if he’s ever had any respect for authority."

Trowa nodded in agreement. “That would explain why I’m having such trouble training him. Sometimes, the way he looks at me...it’s almost as if he’s daring me to hurt him. I think he deliberately provokes me. I don’t know what to make of that.”

“Sounds like he doesn't fear you. I hate to say it, but -”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Trowa told him. “That I need to start giving him good reason to be afraid. I thought I was doing that, but apparently not.”

“Then you’re going to have to step it up because if he keeps doing this, Zechs will break him for you and even I don’t want to think about how bad that would be. And if Zechs fails, he will kill him.”

“I know.” There was a heavy weight in Trowa’s gut, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake and it only became heavier as Quatre continued to show no sign of improvement. It wasn’t as easy as just writing him off and finding a concubine that wouldn’t give him so much grief. He'd already broken the first rule, done what no Tiikirion was ever supposed to do: He’d become attached.

He didn’t want another concubine. He wanted this one. He wanted Quatre and if he didn’t think of something fast, he was going to lose him.

“Do you want come to my chambers?” Duo asked him, sensing Trowa's anxiety and hoping to lighten the atmosphere. “I’ve found this new drink I want you to try. It’s this really sweet orange stuff that tingles on your tongue. I think you'll like it. I know we shouldn’t be consuming human sweeteners, but you only live once, right?”

“Normally I would say yes and I appreciate the offer, but we’re both exhausted. Maybe we’ll come by a little later, though.”

“Anytime, friend. If you need me, you know where I am. You can crash at my place any time.”

Trowa waited until Duo and his concubine disappeared into their suite and then quickened his pace towards his own. The fatigue was beginning to catch up to him, first wrapping itself around his legs and gradually working its way up. He balanced Quatre’s weight on one arm and fumbled for the door handle with the other, huffing as he pushed it open and then blindly kicked it shut once they were inside.

A trail of boots and socks led to the bedroom, toed off in Trowa's desperation to reach the comfort of his cloud-like mattress. He gently laid Quatre down, scoffing in admonition when he realized the blond was out cold once again. “I don’t know how you manage to look so innocent,” he grumbled, draping his uniform over the back of a chair to prevent wrinkles. “If I’d known how much of a pain in the ass you were when I first took you, I would have thought twice about making that decision.”

He crawled onto the bed and flipped the covers over them both, knowing that was a complete lie. If he’d had the chance to do it all over again, he would have done the exact same thing. No hesitation, no second guessing. He reached for the unsecured end of the cord he’d installed into the headboard and tied it tightly around Quatre's wrists. He’d already woken up once in the middle of the night with his pet perched on top of his chest, trying to throttle him with his bare hands.

No, Trowa wasn’t making that mistake twice.

He turned Quatre onto his side and spooned up behind him, holding him tight to prevent any escape on the blond’s part. He soothed the twitch of interest in his groin as it pressed against the warm, supple flesh of his concubine’s backside. _Patience. I am far too tired to indulge you right this moment, but I promise we will reap the pleasures of his body soon._

Quatre's behavior would be dealt with once they'd both gotten a decent rest. There was only one way this was going to go and that was Trowa's way. The time for playing games was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alien!Duo has a thing for Orange Crush. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
